


Notions and such Motions

by Sinalikhatin



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Azula (Avatar)-centric, Azula's POV, Denial, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I Wrote This While Listening to Florence + the Machine, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, POV Azula (Avatar), Self-Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:16:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinalikhatin/pseuds/Sinalikhatin
Summary: Azula needs naught.
Relationships: Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Notions and such Motions

* * *

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't crave the delicate delight her lips bring upon your skin, her kisses soft as the purest silk blanket that she wrapped playfully around your shoulders while her toes tipped over the floors of your dim room. 

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't anticipate how she sits upon your lap with such coy that raged the animal inside your knotting stomach; the flutters you couldn't deny while you wouldn't dare succumb to the engulfing heat menacing between the two of you.

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't give thought to how her faint laughter relieves the agony within and the soreness crawling on your aching body, how her kindly smile illuminates the darkest shadows that cast before the hauntings of your conscience.

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't dare let out a sound nor a word while she whispers gospel never before revered by gods and men of your blood into your ear- you don't dare worship how criminal you suffered, but how divine you perceived was the forbidden touch of another woman.

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't exploit nor suppose that the solace you felt when her soft, light fingers wipe the warm tears that ceaselessly streamed down your bruised cheeks were equivalent or within reach of the attention that your father gave you.

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't incline to heed her pleads and concerns as you push away her body off of you, her voice as quiet as the ghost your mother left in her wake- the fear held by the expression of the girl next to you reminiscent of such shame you endured before the royal throne.  
  
No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't believe how the way her arms wrap themselves around your body as you wept, mortified, was benevolent as the great sun when you discovered you could bend its fury and wrath for the first time.   
  
No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't slip out a whimper as you bury your face into your palms with such silent frustration and excruciating anguish, your body shaking with the like intensity of the desperation you felt before your father as you sweat, bled, and wept under his cruel scrutiny.

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You don't reciprocate the intimacy of such an immature, childish fantasy unbefitting of a Royal Princess- your name bearing the devastating weight of the consequences of both of your withering and tender vulnerabilities.

No, you don't need it. You don't need her. You won't breathe air as if you deserve such a privilege under this spotless palace you've tainted with your scorching, mute frailty. The labyrinthine earnestness her company brought that you couldn't fathom was unbecoming against your despairing bitterness.

No, you don't need it.

  
  
You don't need her. 

You need naught.

* * *


End file.
